


Taste Test

by Amethyst_Hunter



Category: GetBackers
Genre: Food Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethyst_Hunter/pseuds/Amethyst_Hunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginji's favorite cuisine is European. Beware the pickle abuse!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste Test

Title: Taste Test  
Author: Amethyst Hunter  
Fandom/pairing: Get Backers, Ban/Ginji  
Rating: PG-13 (m/m implied)  
Warnings/Spoilers: See above. Abuse of innocent foodstuffs.  
Word count: 526  
Notes: Based on a fic prompt for the springkink LJ community. Prompt: “well-screwed/I love Germany."  
\- There is an old German tradition of hiding a dill pickle in the Christmas tree; whoever finds the pickle is said to receive good luck for the following year.  
Disclaimer: I don’t own GB; all fic is strictly for nonprofit amusement.  
Summary: Ginji's favorite cuisine is European.

\--

Ginji believed in everything.

He was an avid devotee to Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, and everything else in between. There was magic in myth – hadn't Ban taught him so? And Ban was never wrong.

(Well, maybe just a little. Certainly, he'd been wrong about their ability to sneak undetected into the women's changing rooms in that department store...! And wrong about how easy Hevn's job was going to be. And wrong about the car not getting towed last weekend. And...)

Stories – Ginji loved stories. And what were these myths but stories handed down from time after time, stories meant to teach as well as entertain? For he believed in the power of goodness, which explained why every Christmas he always got something, no matter how small or forlorn or ill-used or stale, in his ratty stocking that he proudly dangled from the Subaru's rearview mirror. Ginji made sure to leave only the best cookies for Santa – though he had to set them out long after Ban had finally succumbed to sleep, if the wily Saint Nick was ever to see one crumb.

(It conveniently escaped Ginji's notice that Ban's own stocking – hung under duress by a loudly-complaining Ban at Ginji's behest – remained empty. Except, of course, for the carefully wrapped present Ginji would do his best to sneak past his partner and into the stocking.)

That was why, when while searching for gift ideas for this year's holiday surprise, Ginji got Makubex to look up a tidbit he'd spotted on the internet. And why on Christmas morning, Ban woke to the stink of warm dill pickle coming from beneath the miniature fake Christmas tree half-duct-taped on top of one of the car's heat vents on top of the dashboard. He wasn't terribly thrilled with the smell (and truth be told, neither was Ginji), but when he sorted through the crumpled tinsel and faded ornaments and pulled out the big wrinkling stump of pickle, he just pinched his eyes shut and laughed, “Oh Ginji, what the hell am I gonna do with you,” and pulled his partner, dill and all, into his arms to make some special caroling of their own.

Hours later, the two retrievers were lying in reclined seats, sweaty and flushed and smelling much like pickles themselves. Ban was pleased that Ginji had remembered the old ways and thought to surprise him with a fond memory of home, arguably one of the best gifts he'd ever gotten in his life. Ginji was grinning, his faith in the magic of Christmas reaffirmed, although it was going to be a long while before he could ever look at hamburger relish again without dissolving into impure thoughts. “I love Germany. You have the best traditions, Ban-chan,” he sighed, his eyes falling closed in bliss.

(The pickle, alas, might have had different thoughts about its role in this particular nativity scene. “It died for a noble cause,” Ban said, unceremoniously tossing its ruins into the nearest sewer. He made a note to himself for later to see whether or not Paul kept any premium dills in the Honky Tonk's refrigerator.)

\--


End file.
